


It's Death or Victory

by Panic_romantic



Category: Killjoys - Fandom
Genre: Angst? Maybe., Can you tell?, F/M, M/M, but also fluff, i don't plan in advance, smut at some point? I'm not sure
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-18
Updated: 2018-06-30
Packaged: 2019-03-20 23:25:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13728222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Panic_romantic/pseuds/Panic_romantic
Summary: Nicotine Graffiti lost everything in the fires. Everyone did. You lose some you gain some, right?And she's swore to herself she won't get to close. But now she's falling. It all sounds to cliche for her taste, in all honesty.It doesn't change that fact though.And just when everything is going right, it all goes horribly wrong.





	1. Hair Dye and Allies

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! This is my first, serious Fanfic. Let me know if you enjoy it okay?! No Ghost readers!  
> Like and comment!  
> (Only if you want to of course)

I frowned at the grime covered shop, stepping over a shelf that was lying on its side; surely there was another bottle of teal dye hidden somewhere. Show Pony half danced around the front of the otherwise abandoned store, looking for anything cool enough to take home. Dr. Death Defying, our surrogate father, had sent him with me, claiming that I was no match for anything that might come my way. I knew he meant well, but it still hurt that he thought I couldn’t take care of myself. 

I mean it wasn’t like I was alone. I had Maxie, the Cane Corso I had found about three years ago. She had learned to trust me and now snarled and snapped at anyone or thing that even looked at me or Pony. We had to keep her chained up when people came around because she wouldn’t stay down. But apparently, Doc did not agree that she was adequate company.

But back to Show Pony. I loved the younger boy, I really did, and I appreciated his companionship on some trips, but sometimes I just wanted to be alone. Like now. I sighed and flipped a rack of weather-faded clothing, still looking for any sign of blue green dye.

It took me thirty good minutes to find the stash of dye and almost the second I did the radio buzzed, static flaring before a live broadcasting came on. Doc began to speak, his voice carrying clear across the disordered store. His vocabulary had always been riddled with both new and old slang, making his speeches both interesting and hard to translate, but now he was speaking in a code that he had taught me and Pony very early on. To any other person he was indecipherable right now, but Pony and I caught his words crystal clear. He wanted us home. Now.

I stuffed the few bottles of dye in my bag and stood over Pony as he placed his items in his satchel. Calling Maxie over to me, I gathered the radio and its wire receiver and stepped outside. I lifted the motorcycle seat and laid the radio in it, followed by Pony’s stuffed bag. I had to resituate the items twice before the seat would click closed again. 

I wordlessly swung a leg over the bike, replacing my mask with a pair of sunglasses, and let Pony climb on and stick on my helmet before revving the engine. As I took off, I looked back to make sure Maxie was following us. It wasn’t a necessity anymore, but the habit had stuck.

I turned sharply, leaving a u-shaped cloud of dust hovering in the air and headed towards home.

Home wasn’t much. It was just a couple of buildings straddling zone five and six; Doc’s radio shack occupying one and mine and Pony’s living space the other. For killjoy standards, it was a really nice place. Of course, sometimes you were lucky to have a roof over your head at all.

I shook my head to clear my thoughts and tried to enjoy the wind, which was ruffling my hair and clothes and making the heat of the sun bearable. I glanced in my mirror to get a look at Maxie and found her starting to fall behind. I stopped to give her a break, giving her some water from a half empty bottle.

An hour later I pulled up at the house and switched off the bike, watching as Maxie slowed to a tired walk, still a little ways from us. I poured some more water into a bowl for when she finally arrived and after making sure she had food turned to go inside.  
###

 

After replacing my clothes to avoid staining them blue, I combed the color over top of my roots. They had begun to show about a month ago and I had grown tired of seeing the dark brown every time I looked in the mirror. 

Of course I was tired of seeing my whole reflection. The soft, too-round-triangle face, the green, almond-shaped eyes that were almost too big for my other features, the curved indent in my upper lip, the caramel complexion my skin had taken on… my looks made people confuse me as innocent and cheery and the type to be all too polite. I was none of those things. 

As I stepped away from the mirror, tying my hair up so that it could set without any disturbances, Pony skated around me in circles. The polka dots on his leggings began to blur as he went faster. He slowed to a stop as we both noticed the dull hum of an approaching car engine. I reached for my gun, just in case, though I had a good idea of who it was.  
Pony checked the windows, easing himself into a booth and separating the blinds to look through them.

“It’s just the Trans-am, Nicotine. No need to worry.” He reassured me. Yep. That’s exactly who I thought it was.

I groaned as Pony skated out the door, barely stopping to step over the raised edge of the doorway. 

I hated that car. Actually, the car was awesome and it was the four guys that I hated. Don’t get me wrong, I loved the things that the Fab Four did, but the four guys in that roller were absolutely obnoxious. Well Jet was nice in a motherly kind of way and Kobra was okay because he was quiet with a few quips here and there, but it was the other two who really made me want to pull my hair out. 

Slipping into the little space of my room, I changed back into my normal outfit, the black crop top and graffiti decorated jeans feeling comfortable in a familiar, worn in kind of way. I sat down on my bed to pull on my boots, which I had managed to find in the same shade as my hair, and lace them up.   
I flopped back onto my bed, not wanting to socialize just yet, and let my eyes run over the familiar items.  
It was small but comfortable, with a bed and rug, although the latter was matted with dirt and at least twenty years of wear-and-tear. I had found it in an empty, heat scorched house, halfway across the zones. A spare holster and an old book bag slouched in the corner, reminding me that I needed to find some nails to hand them on.  
I cringed as I heard them enter the building, their loud voices seeming almost unbearable in the normally quiet place. We got plenty of visitors but most weren’t comfortable enough with the place to be loud. The only person who visited enough to consider this his second home, other than the Fab Four, was Cherri Cola and he was a naturally quiet person. 

Through the chatter I heard the shrill, childish voice of The Girl and a smile fought its way onto my face. 

The Girl traveled with the Four and they looked over her with such passion that it was almost endearing. Almost. No one knew her name; she refused to give it, but apparently her mother had been part of the original Killjoys and the poor kid was now considered the Chosen One.

She was the youngest child I could remember seeing ever, barely five, but she acted older, more mature than what I thought a five year old would.

A voice cut me out of my thoughts.  
“Graffiti, d’you grab any extra Power Pup earlier? I can’t find any.” Pony asked, his head poking through a barely open door.

With a sigh, I pushed myself out of bed, not bothering to say anything. I would have to see them at some point, I reasoned, may as well do it now. Pony, sensing that I wasn’t in the mood to talk, just stepped to the side and allowed me to pass. I silently thanked him for not prompting a conversation; glad he knew when to shut up.

I felt a pair of eyes on me as I entered the room and walked towards the cooler. I ignored them and focused on pulling out several cans of food, scoffing as I did so. Pony could have found them with ease he just wanted me out of my room. He pretended not to notice as I shot him a little glare. 

I turned towards The Four, who were standing a little ways off, and chucked the cans in their direction, watching in scrutiny as they caught them one by one. I grabbed an extra can out of the cooler before I shut it and opened it for The Girl, grabbing a spoon that had been lying around. I cleaned it off with a wash rag on the counter and handed the items to her, ruffling her hair.

I shot Jet a look that told him I was in no mood to be bothered and to keep his friends off my back. He returned the look with a subtle nod. We had the same exchange every time they came, the look, the nod; it was all habitual at this point.

I slid into a booth and against a wall, propping my feet off the table, maneuvering myself into a less approachable position with my arms crossed over my chest and my head down, a frown taking over my features. Party and Ghoul slid into the booth with me and I glanced up, eyeing the other three tables that they could have taken. I looked up at Jet, reminding him of his silent promise and he cleared his throat, warning them not to hassle with me.

They ignored him; obviously, I told you they were obnoxious.

After a few remarks that I, thankfully, managed to ignore, Doc wheeled his chair in.

“Good evening boys.” He chuckled as the two at my table tried to return the greeting through a mouthful of food. “You two have never been in a situation where etiquette is necessary so I’m gonna be overlooking it again. However, I will remind you to keep your mouth shut if somethin’s in it.”

I let out a snort, being reminded myself just how often he had to tell them not to do that. 

“And Nick, get your feet off the table.” I threw him a silent, pleading look and he chuckled. “Nope. Rules aren’t gonna bend for ya.” I threw him another pout, but slid my feet off the table top.

Satisfied, he wheeled his chair over to where The Girl was sitting against a wall. Jet moved to give him some space, sliding into my booth instead. He didn’t let many people that close to her without his supervision, but it didn’t surprise me that he let Doc so close. Even though Jet knew Doc could be trusted and had put his life in Doc’s hands several times, it didn’t keep him from glancing over at the two of them every now and then. I figured that that was another purely habitual thing.

Party and Ghoul left the booth in a hurry, wiggling their eyebrows at each other. As the settled into the table in front of us, they began to whisper and giggle, keeping an eye on the two of us. I rolled my eyes at them, wondering what they were up to now.

“How’ve you been?” He asked. I almost laughed.

He knew my opinion on small talk; I had made it clear many times, opting to ignore him than actually return any dialogue. I shook my head and decided to be nice since Doc was in the room. He hated it when I refused to talk.

“Same old, same old. I haven’t hit lights out yet, though with as bored as I am I may as well have.” I avoided the term ‘dead’ at all costs, phrasing it any other way possible. It made him scoff, which I supposed was a good thing.

“I feel like the Drac’s’ll find you before you died of boredom.” 

“Yeah, I’m goin out with a valiant bang. Right in the middle of taking over the city. I’ll be a martyr, worshipped for my bravery.” I quipped, making him chuckle. I was going to say more but was cut off by Ghoul.

“She speaks!” He exclaimed, turning in his seat to look at me with a wide eyed, fake-awed face. I flipped him off, sending him into a snicker fit.

“Shove off shortie.”

A collective chortle rolled through the group at my comment, causing me to smirk. His face fell from playful to feigning offence in a matter of milliseconds.

The walls decided to choose that moment to close in on me and my smile fell away, replaced with a grimace. I rose to my feet before we could exchange anymore banter and excused myself from the room. No one questioned my actions; I had gotten up and left without an explanation plenty of times before. It was the norm now.  
I stepped outside and headed over to the Trans-am, hopping up onto the hood. The heat resonating from it was beginning to cool down, the air no longer warm enough to trap its heat. 

The sun was setting, giving everything an orange glow. It almost made everything seem less harsh, like maybe there wasn’t a tyrant city six zones away and a killer hive-mind ravaging the Killjoy territory. It made everything seem soft. I knew better though, than to wish or wonder. This waste land was nothing but hard turns and sharp corners.  
The sky was beginning to darken now, stars showing their light form under the crescent moon’s faint light. A few satellites blinked and I reached up, tracing patterns in the stars. From behind me, I heard the shack door swing open.

A pair of bare feet softly padded across the dirt, telling me who it was long before they reached the car. Still, l I didn’t look up until they were at my feet, which were dangling off the front of the car.

The Girl stood there, eyes wide as she looked up at the sky. After a few moments standing in wonder she raised her arms to me, signaling that she wanted up. I situated her so that she was lying down beside me, ignoring the weight of Jet’s gaze as he watched through the window. I prepared myself for questions.  
In the zones, you were taught to be colorful and to flaunt and tease and barter to get what you wanted. You were taught to be yourself no matter what, to love who you were. But most of all, you were taught to be curious. You have a question? Ask it. Want to know what happens when you go a hundred miles per hour and then made a sharp right? Do it. It was a Killjoy motto: curiosity killed the cat but satisfaction brought it back.

So I waited for questions, which of course, came.

“Fiti?” I smiled. Pony had given me that nickname when I was little, and he had passed it onto her, knowing she could get away with calling me that. “Where is Orion?”  
It surprised me for a minute; a question about constellations hadn’t been what I expected. Where’d she even find out about Orion, anyway? 

After a moment of silence, I reached up, positioning my finger so that she would see the star was talking about. I began to explain to her.

“See that? Most people use to think that it was the big dipper, but it is not. It’s actually part of Orion.” I moved my fingers, pointing at a different constellation. “In reality, that’s the big dipper.” 

I returned to Orion, pointing out his different stars and telling her his story. She seemed perfectly content just listening, watching my hands as they swept from one star to the next.

Eventually, the door was opened and Doc wheeled out, followed by Kobra, who walked up to us, scooped up the girl and then walked back inside with her. Without a single word to me, might I add. Not that I minded, of course, neither of us were very conversational people.

I continued to to stare up at the sky long after she was gone, letting my own thoughts consume me. I tried to remember a life before this, before we had to scavenge and pillage and wonder if today was the day we were to die. I tried to remember a life before we had to fight for survival.

All I got were flashes and foggy images, shapes making out food or color distinguishable enough to recognize as curtains or bed sheets. Sometimes I could recall certain smells or hum parts of tunes. I could never remember faces. No family. No friends. 

Well, that wasn’t all true. I could remember one face and it was a face I struggled to keep out of my thoughts. I missed my older brother. He was the only thing I missed.  
My thoughts grew spacey and I began to drift off, dozing against the car.

The next time I opened my eyes, it was morning. The sun was in my eyes, the dog was lying on top of me, and someone was shaking me awake. After moving the dog and mumbling an apology to Pony for having to come out and wake me, I headed into the shop. Maxie stayed on my heels.

My stomach rumbled, having skipped lunch and dinner the previous day, and I opened a can of Power Pup, holding my breath as I ate it.  
I would never get used to Power Pup. It was just refried beans, so one could assume (if they hadn’t ever tasted it) that it would be half decent. It was not half-decent. It wasn’t even a tiny bit decent; it was absolutely disgusting. But what could you do? It was the only thing to eat and out here you ate without complaint or you went hungry.   
4  
When I finished the food, I realized that my hair was still in its bun from the day before and I let it out, heading to the rain barrel that was behind our shower.   
The rain water wasn’t drinkable; we learned that very early on when everyone was being poisoned by it. However, no one had died from bathing in it yet, so we continued to do so.   
Now, I removed my shirt and went about washing my hair.

Once I was satisfied that all the extra dye had been washed out, I stepped around the shower stall and grabbed the sliver of mirror that sat on the shelf, inspecting my roots. Content with my results, I fished my shirt off the ground and slid it back on, leaving my hair down so it could dry. With the heat, it would be dry in an hour at most.

I went inside afterwards, staying quiet so as not to disturb the sleeping child. I slid into my room, letting the door click closed behind me, and knelt beside my bed.  
Letting my fingers brush past the shoebox that sat towards the back, I pulled out my textbooks. The shoebox was full of keepsakes, reminding me of the particularly good times every time I decided to look through it. The textbooks had been gifts from Doc for my fifteenth birthday. At this point, I had all of the documents memorized, but liked to read through the pages.

Looking back, I realize that I was just pretending to be normal. Thumbing through the material was just another way to pretend I was living a life that I wasn’t.  
A knock sounded on my door before I could get far and someone stuck their head in.

“We’re leaving, by the way, just thought you’d want to know.” Jet Star said, making me glance up.

“Already?” I wasn’t complaining, but it was unusual for them to leave this early. “Why’d you stop by this time, anyway?” It occurred to me that the question probably sounded rude, but I felt like it was still valid. The car hadn’t needed fixed, their guns had refills, and they were all healthy, so why were they here?

“The Girl wanted to know about the stars. None of us knew where to start. It was Kobra’s idea. Said you had a few books on ‘em.” I glanced down at the book in my lap and then back up at him, still a bit confused.

It hadn’t been exactly what I thought would be the response. They didn’t act on impulse, coming and going as they pleased. (Well they did, but this was a different circumstance.) And judging by the fact that Doc hadn’t mentioned it beforehand, it had been completely unplanned. 

“We were already headed this direction anyway so we decided it would be good to stop.” He added, seeing my unease with the information.  
A few more words were exchanged, not much; we had never really passed the small talk stage. Kobra came to get him eventually, and I watched as he sighed in discontentment, wondering if he wanted something more from me.

He always seemed to make me want to talk, prompting conversations when they came, even though I constantly ignored him. It made me want to know if he did this with everyone or if he was just trying to get me to open up to him. 

I brushed the thoughts to the side as I heard their engine start up and pulled the book further into my lap, leaning back against the bed as I opened it back up. I settled further, propping a pillow behind me. I was going to be here for a long time.


	2. Time and Space

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is unedited. I'm currently working on chapter twenty two and haven't gotten around to editing this, but I figured it was time to post again

A few mornings later I stood in the door of the recording studio, listening to Dr. Death Defying give his message. The "on live" light was off, signaling that he was just recording instead of airing like he usually does. 

He popped the cassette tape out of the recorder and handed it to me. He turned to me and just watched me turn it over in my hands for a minute before he spoke.  
"Nicotine Graffiti, when I get ghosted, by whatever means that will be, you put that tape in and you play it, you got me?" His voice was grim, like he knew exactly when he would die. "Not that I plan on that anytime soon, but, well you know the drill."  
His words crawled under my skin, making me paranoid about everything. for the next couple of days, every little sound set me off, reminding me that we could... Die at any time.

Dying, death, dead... I completely loathe those words. They were too permanent... To blunt. I had seen too many die under this roof, too many injured. 

I remember the first time I had seen death up close. I was probably ten or eleven or so, trying to play a game with Show Pony. It was raining and dark and everything was muddy. When they brought her in, everyone was frantically pushing and shoving and making room for her; A girl with glinting, raven black hair and dirt and blood stained denim and leather clothes. She had been shot twice with a gun that still used metal bullets, once just below her ribs and another below her collar bone. I had just watched with wide, frightened eyes as they dug out the bullets and cleaned the wounds, watched as she writhed and kicked. They tried to see her up, but it wasn't any use. Whoever had shot her had hit an artery. She was dead within the next hour.

I didn't sleep after that until I literally passed out from exhaustion, and every night after that for a long time was plagued by the raven-haired girl, bloody and broken on that table.  
I never learned her name, or what they did with her when they finally took her away. 

It had been a while since someone had died here. Nine months to be exact. We'd seen our share of fatal injuries in that timespan, but none close enough to kill.

I had eventually gotten over it, accepted it as it was. I even helped now, when an unfortunate soul got brought in. But this was on a completely different level. We were talking about D. The doctor death defying. The person I considered a father.  
And he was talking about his death.

Pony snapped his fingers in front of my face, pulling me out of my thought induced stupor.

"Girl, what are you doing? Like, snap out of it." I hadn't told him yet what D had told me. He gave me a concerned look before breaking out into a grin. 

"Oh, Ive got it! You like somebody don't you? Girl, Alright, spill, who is it." He giggled, leaning forward, chin resting on the top of his hands. 

I rolled my eyes. Of course that's what he would think.

"I don't like anyone. You know that." My voice held every ounce of stubbornness I could muster.  
"Even if I did like someone, I wouldn't tell you. You'd tell him." I joked, scoffing when he feigned hurt.

"You offend me with such words." He said before muttering, just loud enough for me to hear, "As true as it might be." He continued a bit louder. "But hey, I narrowed it down. So hmmm, a boy." I laughed as I got up, ruffling his hair.

"I think I'm.... Yeah, I'm going to take the bike for a spin." I announced, beginning to need a change of scenery, feeling bad for once again, getting up on a whim.

When it came to finding things in this desert, I was a lucky person. I had found Maxie, an axe, nineteen records, three guns and a motor bike. That bike was possibly my most treasured possession. The day I found it, five years ago, Pony had to hold me back to keep me from running straight to it, claiming that it could be a trap. There was always that possibility, but I was completely unaware of anything other than the fact that there was a motorcycle right there.

Obviously, I got the bike, but only after what seemed like a hundred days of waiting. It was really only like, three, but I was so impatient. I had never been so impatient in my life, actually, and to be honest, I have never been that restless since. 

I had fixed it with a tiny amount of help from Cherri Cola, who had coincidentally stopped in for a few days. And then I redid the paint job. 

I snapped an extra bag onto the black metal, yelling bye as I swung a leg over and revved the engine, taking off in a flurry of dust and rocks. 

Was I going to get in trouble when I got back? Yes I was. Did I care? Not at all. Well actually I did, but I needed out of that building for an hour or so without anyone to bother me.

Right on the edge of Zone Six, there was an old gas station. On the back wall, it had two wanted posters still pasted on the walls (of Ghoul and Party), left from the time before we Killjoys took it over, and old world magazines that for some reason never got cleaned out. There wasn't much else in there except for a few chairs and a broken computer. 

Cola could probably have probably fixed it, he had always had a knack for fixing things. 

I plopped down into a chair and picked up a random magazine and flipped to a random page. I had read this article before, the heading had been ripped out, leaving me with just the little essay starting with the words: 'It was the Summer of 2001'. I liked this particular article because it didn't seem to be professional like the others, more like the person was drunk when they wrote it. The next page was too folded and torn to decipher, so I never got to finish it or see who it was by, but it was enjoyable while it lasted. 

I doubt that I had read all of those magazines in that shop, but I refused to sort through them to find the ones I had gone through. I was okay rereading and if I happened to come across a new one, I'd read that. Fine. I really didn't care.

As I exited the store, a Bli magazine caught my eye, the fact that it wasn't their usual black and white stood out. I grabbed it and ripped the cover off, folding it to fit in the extra pocket in my holster, grinning as I did so.

In my room, Pony and I had dedicated a whole wall to BL/ind posters. We were missing one single poster and that was Kobra Kid's. Everywhere we had been so far, there had been several wanted posters up, but his was always gone. It had become our little inside joke of, guess who you won't find. The paper I had just stuffed in my bag, was his. I had finally found it. The game was over and I had won.

I froze as I boarded my bike, unable to block out the sound of gunshots firing in the distance. I let out a string of expletives, my hand instinctively reached for my gun, my mind to the few run-ins I had had before. 

Before I could delve to far into that memory I got onto my bike and headed towards the sound. 

That decision probably was not my best, but thankfully it wasn't actually a group of Dracs. Instead, as I drove closer to the sound, I could make out a head of fire-truck red hair and a set of empty cans. Target practice. 

I decided I still had enough time to stop by. May as well since I was here. Of course I regretted that choice the second I got off my cycle.  
"Miss us already, Nicotine?" He asked, red hair blowing back behind him as a stiff breeze passed by.

I didn't answer the question, just rolled my eyes, trying (and failing) not to scoff at what he said next. 

"Or did you miss someone in particular." He commented, now standing with one hand on his hip. I snorted.

"That is the second time today I've been accused of liking someone." I stated, trying not to be annoyed.

"Actually, we have running bets on who you like. My money's on Jet." He stopped like he was going to let me talk, but then kept going. "Well, not money, actually, my last pack of cigarettes, but you get my gist." He boasted, making me roll my eyes. For a second I wondered if he was actually serious but then dismissed the idea. Of course he was serious. 

This was the reason that they annoyed me. 

I sat on the trunk of the car, watching as Party went back to his target practice. Ghoul joined me, putting his elbows on the back of the car and leaning back. 

"You know, I would kill for a cup of coffee." He sighed, very much so out of the blue. 

"Isn't coffee supposed to make you short?" I asked aloud, not bothering to keep my mouth shut like I usually do.

"Ah, who cares?" His nonchalant answer made me snicker.

"You should." I insisted. "Any shorter and you'd probably fade out of existence." 

A giggle was heard from behind me and I turned to see The Girl. She ran in circles around the car, coming to an abrupt stop in front of me.

"Does you like the HQ?" She asked, her childish slur making me smile and nod. It also made me realize that I hadn't actually looked around at the building.

It was an old, 90s style diner, with silver exterior and bright red letters. I hopped off the car, inviting myself inside. It was nice. Dusty and messy, of course, but still nicer than anything I'd ever seen. It looked untouched by the current government, only a few tears in the leather seats. There were papers and greasy tools on every table and white laser guns scattered here and there, waiting to be repainted.

You could see that the original kitchen had once had several walk in coolers, but since they didn't actually work, and there was nothing to store in them, had been turned into little bedrooms. I could hear the other guys talking in the farthest one in hushed tones. I knocked on the closed door, listening as they shuffled around.

The door opened for me and I raised my eyebrows at how crowded the space looked. Kobra invited me in, but I grimaced and shook my head, refusing. Tight spaces had never been my thing. I covered my fear by telling them I had to go.

"I have to go. I've been gone for a good two hours and if I don't get home soon, Dee will murder me with his metaphors and proverbs. I was just coming by to say hey." Kobra looked over his sunglasses at me and then at Jet before giving a rare smirk. 

"So which one of us is it?" He inquired, talking about the bets.

"I don't know what your talking about." I replied. It was a lie obviously and all three of us knew it. I tried not to notice the way my eyes flitted to one of them in particular and then back at the ground. Maybe I did like one of them, but I would never tell them who. Especially not when I was still denying it.

I stalked over to my bike and rode off, throwing Party a glare, which he of course didn't see. 

When I got back, Pony was pacing and I could hear Dee in the back room, muttering something under his breath. When he saw me, Show Pony stopped in his tracks.

"You were gone for almost three hours!" He fumed, hands tangled in his hair. 

At this I watched my father figure wheel out of the recording station. He stopped in front of me, and began his lecture about how I could have been ghosted, how I had to take Pony if I was going somewhere and that he was really disappointed. Of course half of his sentences were weighed down with fancy words and parables.

I was sent to my room. Of all the things that could have happened, being sent to my room was the best, which I wasn't about to tell him, but it was my favorite of all punishments. Mainly because that's what I would normally do anyway.

Pony came in with a can of Power Pup, slamming the it down on the side table and stormed back out, slamming the door behind him. Which threw it off its hinges. 

He would get over it soon. He was never able to stay mad at me for more than 24 hours. Actually, the longest he was ever mad at me was when we were eight and I broke his only toy. He was angry then for a total of sixteen hours before he crawled into my bed and apologized.

And that's exactly what he did now. I was laying in bed, Maxie beside me, staring up at my ceiling, just thinking, when the door was moved out of the doorway and the bed dipped down where he laid beside me.

"Sorry for getting angry." He sighed, petting Maxie, who now lay between us. 

"And I'm sorry for leaving for so long." I admitted. 

It fell silent, the only sound being our breathing. The next time I looked over, Pony was asleep.


End file.
